When the Fire Burns Out
by Marzos
Summary: Riza Hawkeye would die for Roy Mustang, that much was certain. But when his plans come to fruition, is she willing to live for him?


The thing that made being a soldier so dangerous was also what saved Riza's life, in the end.

They couldn't bring themselves to sentence a woman. Not even one who admitted to every accusation, who was rumored to have a heart as cold as her eyes. Even with all of that, Riza couldn't hide that she was young, pretty, blonde. And to send a woman such as that to her death? Impossible.

So, three months after she was indicted, Captain Riza Hawkeye was officially not guilty on all counts of crimes committed during the War of Extermination.

Fuhrer Roy Mustang was not so unfortunate.

"Sir?"

The guards gave them privacy. Technically that was forbidden, but she _was_ a Captain now, and Roy had so far been a model prisoner. While the breach in protocol was strange, Riza wasn't going to question it.

Roy was sitting at the back of the cell, a bowl resting in his lap. He looked up and smiled.

"Captain," he said, "it's good to see you. Almost time, isn't it?"

"Yes. Almost time." Riza narrowed her eyes a little. "You've shaved."

"Hm?"

"You've shaved," she repeated, "you weren't shaving during your trial."

"Oh, yes," Roy rubbed his naked chin, "I thought I'd let myself go a bit, the past few months. After all, for my last public appearance, shouldn't I look respectable?"

He flashed a smile at her. Riza didn't find it in her to smile back; not that she normally would, anyway. But now especially it rubbed her the wrong way.

He was sitting in the standard six by eight foot prison cell; there was a single cot against the right of the cell-no blanket-a sink and a toilet at the opposite corner. Roy took a spoonful of whatever was in that bowl; Riza could see that it was some sort of stew, chunks of grizzled meat floating around in soup that was more murky water than broth. She wrinkled her nose.

"Sir, why are you eating that?"

"What do you mean?"

"Don't they give you a-"

She stopped when she felt a wrenching feeling in her stomach, making her want to throw up.

Last meal.

 _Last._

Roy shrugged. "I thought about asking for a nice, big steak," he said, "but after lengthy consideration I felt there were better things to ask for."

"Like what, Sir?"

Roy took another spoonful. "You." He stated simply.

In all the years she'd stood by his side, in all of the times he'd said so much within so little, nothing had ever made Riza blush. She supposed once in over a decade together was a tolerable record.

" _Me?"_

Roy pushed his bowl away. He finally stood.

"I asked for a moment with you, privately. It was my...last request."

He paused a little, as if he needed to prepare himself for the words, as if he wasn't taking the situation in stride as he was trying to make her believe.

"Well...it's an honor, for you to ask for me, Sir-"

"Roy, Riza. Please."

"Roy."

They were at a loss for words. Roy walked closer, wrapping a hand around one of the bars. "I need to tell you something."

"What?"

"They're going to pick someone," he said, "to replace me. Parliament is choosing a new Fuhrer."

"I know."

"Before the trial, I...worked some connections."

Riza narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean?"

"If you play your cards right…"

He trailed off. Riza's eyes widened.

" _Me?"_

She thought he was joking. Fuhrer Riza Hawkeye; even in her head it sounded wrong. She was not a follower, but she was a supporter, preferring to be the power at the right hand of the throne. She was the most powerful piece on the chessboard, but she wasn't the _king._

"You're a distinguished military soldier. You've been my right hand for years. You're a well known public figure with the endorsement of some of the country's most respected state alchemists. They might vote to appoint you, yes."

"But I'm a _woman."_

"So? General Armstrong defended our borders in the most grueling part of the country. There's no reason why you couldn't be Fuhrer."

"But I'm...I...Sir-Roy-why?"

His hands tightened around the bars of his cell. "Because we've only just started, Riza," he said, "this country is still transitioning. All of this work we've done...everything we've changed...it could all be undone like," he snapped his fingers, which felt almost strange without the usual accompanying flame. "That. You need to make sure that doesn't happen. I need you to."

Riza didn't know what to say. Her tongue felt heavy, and her mind swam with the implications of what was happening.

Her. Fuhrer of Amestris.

Courtesy of Roy Mustang.

Except-

"Wait-you _knew?"_

"Knew what?"

"You knew," she said again, "you said you needed me to become Fuhrer to keep our work from being undone." She planted one foot behind her, almost wanting to back away from him. "And to pull strings to give _me_ a chance of being Fuhrer? That had to have taken far longer than you've even been Fuhrer! How long have you planned this? Has that been what you've wanted from the start?"

Roy didn't answer.

"Dammit...you never thought it would happen, did you? All this time, we've talked about our plans, and you knew it would only be you getting hanged by the end of it all. You _lied_ to me!"

"I didn't lie," he finally said, "I said we would be tried for war crimes and we were. I didn't bribe that jury. I didn't make them decide you weren't guilty. I had a contingency plan if it couldn't be you. This one was just...my preference."

Riza put her hands on her hips. She took a few deep breaths.

And then she couldn't take it anymore.

"Riza!"

"You're _dead!"_ She said, wiping at her eyes, "you're dead, don't you get it? This is the last time we'll see each other, and you want to use it for _politics!"_

Roy stared at her as she tried to regain her composure. It wasn't like her to get so emotional. She'd murdered countless innocents in Ishval-was it really right, to cry so much over one man now? A man who the country had decided was unworthy of the rest of his life, even if it was spent rotting in a cage?

Finally, Roy silently reached a hand through the bars. Riza swallowed, stepping forward, kneeling, reaching herself to take his hand in both of her own.

"Then what do you want to use it for?" He asked.

"This was supposed to be _us,_ dammit," she said, gritting her teeth, "I said I'd follow you into hell, and now you're going without me. It isn't right. It should be both of us."

In fact, when Riza had said she'd go to hell with Roy, she didn't just mean it; she'd been counting on it. After the horrors of Ishval and everything she'd done, Roy had promised Riza peace, a way to atone for her sins. Everything was falling apart-and, as it turned out, Roy had never wanted her to reach her goal from the start.

Roy looked down at her hands. "You are going to follow me," he said, "in fifty or sixty years. Riza. I want to give you an order. One more from me."

She nodded. "What now?"

"They let you go for a reason," Roy said, "they let you live. So _live._ Have a life, be Fuhrer or don't be, I don't give a shit, okay? Just...try and live. You were ready to look death in the eye and answer for what you've done. That's all that can be asked of you. Is it really so unforgivable, for me to want to see you keep living? Could you forgive an old friend if he breathed a sigh of relief when he knew he'd be standing alone at the gallows? Just for a second?"

"I...don't want you to die," she choked out. "It's not a good day for it. It was raining."

She felt the wetness fall against her hands. She didn't know which of them it came from.

"I don't know, I don't have any regrets, at least," he answered, "well...maybe one. There _was_ Elizabeth."

Riza took a sharp breath, blinking the tears out of her eyes so she could look at Roy clearly.

"Elizabeth?"

"Yes. I always regretted things not working out between us."

Their relationship was always unspoken, but perfectly understood; this was the closest Roy had ever come to an acknowledgement passing across his lips. And Riza? Riza tried to think of a response when light flooded the room from the opened door.

"Roy Mustang." Two guards stood at attention. "It's…"

They trailed off, looking at the two kneeling on the ground.

"Time already, huh?" He stood. "Well, I'm as ready as I'll ever be."

Riza got up and stepped aside as they unlocked the cell.

"...Sir!" She shouted suddenly, as they put Roy in handcuffs. He looked back at her.

"Yes?"

"What we talked about...I promise."

Riza was never a romantic by nature. She was _willing_ to die for him, she'd come close more than a few times, even felt weirdly comforted by the thought that at the end it would have been them dying side by side. She knew that a world without him in it for her was surely a worse one.

Losing him would hurt like a bitch. But a long time ago, Roy had made Riza promise that even without him there she'd keep fighting. So that was what she'd do. She was never one not to follow through on an order.

"Thank you, Captain," he answered.

She watched his back and shut her eyes tight.

"And I'm sure Elizabeth wishes she could have told you how she felt as well!"

She opened her eyes. Roy forced the two guards to a stop. He looked back again and, amazingly, smiled. It wasn't a sad smile, or a nervous one.

"I knew," he said, "I think I always did."

He stared ahead. "Walk with me, Captain," he said softly.

Riza took a deep breath. In front of the two other guards, she had to at least keep her voice in check, even if she couldn't hide that she'd been crying. They didn't stop her when she walked forward and stood next to him. Oddly enough, Riza couldn't help but smile a little herself.

They'd done it at last. She'd told Roy that she would help him see this through, and now she was.

"After all this time Sir," she said, hooking an arm through his, staring straight ahead as she led Roy to the one place she'd promised she wouldn't follow, "do you really have to ask?"


End file.
